I was gifted this by Flowersilk. All opinions, as ever, are my own.
I should confess that I have a complicated relationship with front door wreaths.
I love the idea of them. I love them on other people’s doors. I slow down to look at them when I walk past.
Mine, historically, have lasted about nine days.
Then the leaves go crisp, the berries drop off one by one, and I spend a fortnight pretending not to notice the sad brown circle hanging there. Bruce notices. Bruce says nothing, which is somehow worse.
So when the Flowersilk wreath arrived, I was cautiously pleased and quietly sceptical.
It came out of its packaging looking like it meant business.
First thing I did was hold it up and turn it round, the way you do with a new coat. I wanted to see the back as well as the front. I wanted to know whether it was one of those things that looks lovely from the pavement and a bit tragic up close.
It isn’t.
It looks good from the pavement.
It looks good from the step.
It looks good from about four inches away, when I’m squinting at it with my tea in my other hand.
That last one matters to me more than it probably should. I am a noticer of small things. I look at the edges and the detail, and I like it when something holds up to that kind of nosiness.
Then came the hanging, which was the part I was dreading. I am not a natural at hanging things. I hold the item against the door, step back, step forward, move it two centimetres, step back again. Bruce has learned to leave the room. So I simply bought an over door hanger (yes such a thing exists) and hung the wreath on that. No needing to cut ribbon or tie bows then swearing as the length is wrong
And then there it was, on the front door, and I stood on the drive for a good minute just looking.
It’s elegant. That’s the word I keep coming back to. It isn’t shouting. It doesn’t look like it’s trying too hard, which is a quality I admire in a wreath and, frankly, in a person.
What I like most is that it’s sensible.
It’s reasonable, for one thing. I don’t love talking about money, but this was less than £50.
And it’s reusable.
That’s the real selling point for someone with my track record. I’m not hanging up a countdown to the compost bin. I can put it up, enjoy it, take it down, tuck it away, and bring it out again when the mood takes me.
One wreath. Many seasons. And in fact this one doesnt even scream Christmas as the tones are muted so having hung it up to take the photos I have decided it can stay because actually looks autumnal at the moment but in a month’s time I can put a red bow on it and declare it Christmas.
Who knew I could be so organised?
I’ve been thinking about why a door matters so much, actually. It’s the first thing anyone sees. It’s the last thing you see when you leave. There’s something quietly welcoming about a front door that’s been given a little attention, even on a grey Hampshire morning when the rest of the garden has given up for the year.
The wreath is up. The door looks cared for. I walk out in the morning and it makes me feel a bit more put-together than I actually am, which, at this stage of life, with the menopause rearranging my sleep and my thermostat at random, is no small thing.
I don’t need much from a bit of home decor. I’d like it to be pretty. I’d like it to last. I’d like it not to make me feel foolish.
It does all three.
I’ve also noticed that the light catches it differently depending on the time of day. First thing it’s soft and quiet. By late afternoon it warms up a bit. I’m told that’s just how light works, but I’m choosing to find it charming. I’ve taken a few frames of it on film, as I do with most things that stand still long enough, and I’m curious to see which one I like best when they come back.
I do love waiting for a roll to be developed. It’s a lesson in patience that I clearly still need.
So that’s my verdict, for what it’s worth. A wreath that looks elegant, costs a reasonable amount, and comes back year after year without sulking.
If only everything in my life were so low-maintenance.
I’ll let you know if the door and I fall out. Currently, we’re getting on very well.